I should’ve refused to follow a stranger.
But when he showed me the picture, I suddenly reached for my coat.
***
I’m Dr. Miller, 65, and I’ve worked as an emergency trauma surgeon for nearly 35 years.
I’ve been considering retirement.
I should’ve refused.
My knees hurt after long shifts, and I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed a full weekend.
But retirement frightens me.
Three years ago, my daughter, Emily, and my seven-year-old granddaughter, Lucy, died in a car accident.
My wife, Milly, had passed away several years earlier.
So work has become almost everything I have left.
My knees hurt.
After Emily and Lucy died, I had no immediate family left.
No Sunday dinners.
No birthday parties.
No little girl calling to ask whether Grandpa could fix her broken toys.
I started working longer hours because the hospital was the only place where I felt useful.
I had no immediate family left.
